Sergeant Nikov crawled to the edge of the hole. Her face was healing. The bruises were now yellow smudges, but the swelling remained. "Second squad up here!"
Tomi scrambled through the mud and clawed his way up to the edge of the hole. Corporal Mick and Hutch nestled into the mud next to him. A half dozen other squad mates found a spot.
"Hutch! Slam a few rounds at that nest. Everyone else cover fire and get ready."
Hans stood above them all, oblivious to the tracers and explosions all around. He stared down into the shell hole with his arms across his chest.
Hutch tucked the Warthog grenade launcher to his shoulder and lobbed off a three round burst of 40mm explosive rounds. A few seconds later they exploded against the target turret.
"Move!" Lieutenant Totori said.
Tomi burst out from the hole and sprinted past Hans. What better way to not get shot then stand next to someone who obviously couldn't get shot?
A strong arm grabbed him across and the chest and slammed him to the ground.
Tomi gasped for breath and stared up into the sky. He watched as the tracers sliced through the clouds and felt the concussion of more grenades. With great effort he rolled over and struggled to his feet.
Hans kicked him in the ass. "Move!"
And Tomi was off again. He sprawled into the bottom of the next hole.
Lieutenant Torori spoke rapidly into his commset. "No, you flank! I'm too close to flank. Listen to me you convict, that—" He stopped and looked around as if offended. "He called me a swine dog!"
"Tomi boy! Get over here, stick by me now dammit," Mick called. The Corporal dug his fingers into the action of his rifle and pulled out a mass of mud. "Clean 'em out!"
The squad stopped moving and everyone worked frantically to clear their weapons.
Hutch helped Sergeant Nikov up to the next edge.
An automated turret, their objective, fired and slammed a group of rounds into the edge of the hole. Mud cascaded back and plopped into the stagnant water.
"Fuck this!" Sergeant Nikov said and slid back to the edge. "You people can get fucked. Fuck this!"
Hutch looked back down with his mouth open.
Corporal Mick grabbed her by the arm and beckoned Tomi over. "You and Hutch drag her along. I don't give a damn what she says."
Sergeant Nikov glared at Mick. But it wasn't hate, mostly indifference.
Lieutenant Torori continued to yell into his commset.
Hans spoke from behind them. "It would behoove you to move."
Lieutenant Torori took the hint. "Everyone else into the next hole!"
Hutch rolled over and let loose another batch of 40mm shells. He slid down on his side past the rest of the squad as they streamed up. He grasped one of Sergeant Nikov's arms while Tomi took the other.
Corporal Mick yelled at the line and a third of them rose while the other two-thirds fired. Empty casings tumbled into the mud. One man stood higher to get a better shot and was thrown backwards.
Tomi struggled up the rise with Sergeant Nikov putting up weak resistance. She didn't seem to care too much one way or the other where she went.
The man fell past Tomi. At first, he thought the man was dead. His shoulders and chest were covered in a thick red goo. The round, upon impacting the man, had exploded into a foamy gel. Now the man was out of action and he groaned in the mud.
"Three! Go!" Mick yelled.
The line rose to the edge of the crater and fired at the automated turret. The machine was pointed a few degrees to the side but upon detecting the squad slung the gun toward them and fired. Third squad dropped into the hole just in time while everyone else took cover. They were close now, about fifty meters, and if they could close the gap a bit more they could knock it out with demolition charges.
The firing stopped and the turret slung to a new target.
"Go!" Mick bellowed.
Tomi forced his feet up and drug Sergeant Nikov. Hutch pulled her along and the three climbed over the crest, still hunching.
The turret, instead of pointing at another group, had simply waited. Then, as the rest of the squad crested the rise, it opened fire.
Tomi threw Sergeant Nikov forward. She tumbled ahead with Hutch falling right next to her. Then Tomi found himself on the ground gasping and retching. He tried to move but felt a sticky tension all across his chest.
"Shit," he groaned.
The exercise raged on.
The squad trudged ahead and crested one more rise. More soldiers fell under the withering barrage from the turret. For a few minutes they were pinned.
Tomi watched it all and felt a deep sense of disappointment. He'd failed. He played it over in his mind. Should I have taken cover? he wondered. Or what is it because I was carrying Nikov?
The thought made him angry and he fought against the sticky foam. He couldn't break free. This made him feel even worse. Next time I'll toss her ass over the hill and go on behind.
He watched the squad, his squad, push ahead. The thought put him off guard, was he a part of them now? He'd suffered alongside of them, struggled through the same mud, and taken the same beatings. Physically he was still lagging, but they were all learning the new methods of engagement. He didn't see what was so new, but some of his squad-mates spoke of strictly defensive operations with an occasional all-line strike.
Corporal Mick rose up with the demolition charge and then fell back, struck by an anti-personnel mine. A moment later another squad mate named Chirp took the package and stumbled where it fell in the midst of the remaining soldiers.
A giant poof of white smoke, a simulated blast, ended the exercise.
The turret went silent.
Tomi lay, helpless, and listened to the strange and sudden silence. The exercise was done. Medical staff moved throughout the area and sprayed neutralizer on the orange foam that restrained those who were hit.
Hans stood next to Tomi and waved the squad over. His hard face looked out over the battlefield and he shook his head. When a medic came close to Tomi he told the man to wait.
The squad stood around Tomi. Their faces were tired. They were covered in slimy looking mud from head-to-toe.
"Can anyone tell me what this young man did wrong?" Hans asked in a thick Sigg accent. He nudged Tomi with his boot.
No one said anything.
"He did nothing wrong," Hans said.
Tomi felt a weight lift from his conscience.
"You can move with proper squad tactics and that will help you survive. But," Hans said and pointed a finger at everyone, "you may still not survive. Not because you did wrong, but because that is the nature of war."
Hans called the medic over and the man sprayed a release agent onto Tomi. Mick helped him up and Hans clapped him on the shoulder.
"You did well, young man," Hans said. The Sigg turned and marched off.
Lieutenant Torori spoke into his commset and shook his head. Then he turned to the squad. "Take defensive positions, dig in, and set out lines to hold this objective. We're staying here for the night."
The squad looked broken, tired, sore, cold, and wet. They didn't look like a cohesive unit, but like a collection of individuals striving to work together. What one suffered, all suffered.
Mick grinned and slapped Hutch on the shoulder. "Let's go! Those holes ain't gonna dig themselves."
Tomi marched off behind them and wished, more than anything, that he was back home in his own bed. Oh well, he thought, at least I'm starting to fit in. And, for that matter, maybe we all are starting to fit in.
#
Chapter Twenty-Two
Vasilov Prime - County of Essen, Training Camp
The clouds whipped through the air above the meager camp. It was mostly quiet, the only major activity coming from the kitchen area. A small platoon stood at parade rest on the edge of a landing strip. They looked cold, wet, and uncomfortable.
"Does it ever stop raining?" Umi said. He walked alongside Colonel Clarke.
Colone
l Clarke thought of a joke about the rain, and decided that Umi wouldn't get the humor. "No, not really. General von Aster is due soon enough."
Major Bresov ran across the gravel and saluted. "Doctor Keniski is dead."
Colonel Clarke sighed and nodded. "Thank you, Major."
Umi crossed his arms. "What is that, a dozen now?"
"Yes."
Umi nodded.
Colonel Clarke looked off into the distance. A training operation was just getting done. He wanted to be out there with his men. He didn't picture himself watching his soldiers die due to drug withdrawal. And now a surgeon, too?
"The training is coming along," Umi said. "But when will we get the armor?"
This had been a sore point so far. Even Lady Atli had been unable to break the grip that various bureaucracies had on the armored unit. At first it was a quarantine, then it was a technical quarantine, then it was a dispute about jobs, and now he wasn't sure what the delay was. He had a hunch that it was the other defense contractors but he didn't know for sure.
"Tomorrow," Major Bresov said.
"You said that yesterday," Umi said.
Colonel Clarke wanted to be angry at someone, anyone, but it wasn't Bresov's fault. Instead he changed the subject. "This is the work orders for the support company."
He handed a tablet to Major Bresov.
She scanned the data and looked up with a thin smile. "The anarchists?"
"Among others. Assign them to any task except anything that deals with food. If they don't work, they don't eat."
"Lieutenant Kiski as the CO?" Major Bresov asked.
"It should rate a Captain, but we don't have any Officers to spare. Kiski looks to be good enough. I spoke with him this morning about his charges."
"What did he do?" Umi asked.
"The Lieutenant has a temper."
"So you put him in charge of the malcontents?"
"He's a good Officer, this is going to teach him a bit of humility."
Colonel Clarke looked down at his org chart. It was coming together. There was still holes. And in some cases positions with obvious incompetents. But he couldn't transfer them or send them out. It bothered him deeply that he had Officers, not just down-and-out, but bad Officers commanding his troops.
Two of his Captains, who should have been company commanders, were completely unable to command anything. But he couldn't put them under a Lieutenant. Instead he had a command gap, or in the case of one of them, a made up position. Everyone started out with a clean slate, and in short order his original command structure collapsed. The really bad Officers appeared almost immediately. It was the mediocre ones he worried about now.
A Corporal raced out from the communications tent and handed a tablet to Major Bresov.
"Colonel! Martinez says he has possession of the armor!" Major Bresov said. "He, uh, Martinez says he's on his way."
"On his way?" Colonel Clarke sighed. "Get Arap out of the field. Get the crews and pick them up. We might have a few days to actually do some armor training."
"Are you still going to split them up?" Umi asked.
"I'd rather not. But I haven't been able to talk the General out of it. It'll be for a few weeks. Once the armor crews get some experience, then we'll transit to Lishun Delta. Or Arap will, I'll be heading to Lishun with the ground troops."
A low hum grew louder and a Sigg armored infantry gunship-transport dropped out of the clouds. The twin rotors buzzed like an angry wasp. It settled in low to the ground and hugged the contours before finally setting down. The gravel crunched beneath it.
Umi stepped ahead and grinned. "Martinez knows how to make an entrance."
Colonel Clarke's heart beat faster. There it was. The first of his unit. He'd worked so hard, for so long, and bet his entire savings on a gamble. He forced himself to step forward, to make his way toward the stubby gunship.
The rotors whizzed and hummed and the tone dropped down until they finally stopped. The hatch opened halfway and got stuck. There was a loud banging inside and it dropped to the ground with a crash and a man in an orange jumpsuit sprawled onto the ground.
"Hmm, a few bugs to work out, it seems," Umi said.
Lieutenant Kiski and the support company snapped to attention. General von Aster stomped out of the gunship with a half dozen other Officers behind him. Then a few soldiers marched out with men in shackles.
The General arched his back and sucked in a deep breath. His face had a slight tint of green.
Martinez emerged with a pilot's helmet under his arm. He grinned and slapped General von Aster on the shoulder.
"Hot damn!" Martinez said.
Colonel Clarke saluted General von Aster. "Welcome to Camp Stefan, General."
General von Aster took another deep breath and jabbed a finger at Martinez. "You ever fly like that again and I'll break your nose." Then he turned to Colonel Clarke. "Have your boys send for my plane, I'm not flying with that maniac again."
Colonel Clarke suppressed a grin and sent Major Bresov off.
"She handles well. Want to go for a ride, Colonel?" Martinez said as he eyed up the gunship.
"Plenty of time for that later, Pablo," General von Aster said. His face was finally returning to normal. He turned to Colonel Clarke. "Are they ready?"
"No."
General von Aster ran his hand over his marble smooth chin. "I know you've got big plans here, but damnit, LISCOM is going to fall. I'm going to have to take your troops."
"With all due respect, another thousand basic infantry isn't going to do a damned thing. I just need more time to get the armored unit trained. We've got one shot to do it right."
"Cole," General von Aster said in a low voice. "This is a penal battalion, we'll get you another unit. Your father can pull a few—"
"My father will do nothing," he snapped. "General, it may be a penal battalion but it's my penal battalion. And speaking of that, I'd like our designation changed to the 19th Armored Cavalry Squadron."
General von Aster stared back at Colonel Clarke with a look ranging between anger and surprise. "The 19th? There aren't eighteen other Armored Cavalry Squadrons! Cole, you're pushing my buttons!"
"There was Armored Cavalry once, Stefan Vasilov arrived with them."
"I called out favors damned near everywhere to keep your boys from being in the meatgrinder. It just means someone else, someone who didn't commit a crime, went in their place."
Colonel Clarke listened. The thought that someone else was dying where his troops should have been hit him hard.
"You're Captain Umi, yes?" General von Aster said to Umi.
"That's correct, General."
"What sort of velocity does your anti-aircraft weapons have?"
Umi raised an eyebrow. "About two thousand meters per second."
"The Kadan don't have air assets," Colonel Clarke said.
"Well, they do now," General von Aster said. "Hyper-velocity bombers, about fifteen hundred meters per second."
"The Boben used air assets, but they didn't design them, they bought them off the Cion."
"We heard as much from your Ambassador, but he wouldn't give us the specifications. Cole, I'm going to need those anti-air units now."
"Will that buy me some time?" Colonel Clarke said. His heartbeat slowed and he watched General von Aster. He wanted to plead, beg, do anything to give them a fighting chance.
"You get three days. But I need those anti-air units as soon as they're functional." General von Aster turned to Martinez.
"How long, Pablo?"
Pablo Martinez stepped out from beneath the wing of the gunship. He licked his lips and glanced at Colonel Clarke. "Three days."
General von Aster crossed his arms. "Don't toy with me, Martinez, I'll pull those contracts. They looked good enough to me."
"Oh, they're good. For now. But they all need maintenance work, and they barely have enough ammunition for a dozen shots each. If you don't give me the time to blueprint it, they won't even be worth sc
rap on Lishun. Already I'm working my boys to the bone here, General." Martinez stepped back under the cover of the wing.
"Now let's get inside. Time to discuss your mission." General von Aster took a few steps then stooped. "And Captain Umi, Lady Atli has requested your presence. You're coming back with me. She said to bring the trinket."
Umi looked to Colonel Clarke and then nodded to General von Aster.
They marched in silence to the mess tent. The only sound was the crunch of gravel and the patter of rain on the tents. They entered and General von Aster grabbed a cup of coffee. Everyone waited while the General ate a pastry and then sat.
"So," he said, sipping coffee. "We're holding, but just barely. Right now every group we send through gets hammered by those bombers. We don't have enough density to let the umbrella catch them. Damned things are too fast."
Colonel Clarke pictured the slaughter as the reinforcements stepped through. Artillery, airstrikes, all against group troops. He knew that without supplies and reinforcements the Mackinof Front would fall.
"We need to get a reactor in." General von Aster looked at Colonel Clarke and held his gaze. "You're going in first. If you can halt that airstrike the Engineers will go through with the reactor."
"And if we can't?" Colonel Clarke said.
"Well, you won't have to worry about that then, will you. Time to put your money where your mouth is, Cole. You ruffled a lot of feathers, and this will smooth 'em back out. Now here." He grabbed a pile of tablets and laid them on the table. "This is our operational data. In three days you go."
"What about the orbital strikes?" Umi asked.
General von Aster leaned back and took another sip of coffee. He gave a sideways glance at Umi. "It's been neutralized."
Umi raised his chin and said nothing in reply.
A high pitched turbine whine announced the arrival of the General's conventional transport. There was a screech of rubber on gravel followed the back thrust.
General von Aster stood. "Colonel, the Seventh Army will follow your lead. Hold that gate."
Colonel Clarke stood. "We'll hold that gate. I'll see you in three days."
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